On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. You are without sense and not sympathique in the least. This became very interesting. Strange gurgle-like noises emanated from the crypt. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind.
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This video was uploaded to motorsport-fotografie.info on 28-06-2024 13:17:25
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